Through the Eyes of a Child
by moondustbeam
Summary: AU. Due to an unfortunate accident, Alfred Jones appears to be nineteen, but has the mentality of a three year-old. It's up to his older brother, Arthur, to protect him and face the hardships of everyone treating Alfred differently. England/Arthur's perspective. COMPLETE.
1. Prologue

**I lied. I'm not doing a comedy next. Sorry to break your little hearts. I am doing one that is (hopefully) absolutely heart-wrenching. And keep a very open mind when reading this, because a lot of people actually suffer from this problem in the real world. Okay. That's all, ladies and gents. Read on.**

Hello. My name is Arthur Kirkland. I am twenty-three years old, and I have a little brother, Alfred. Alfred is nineteen, and he lives with me in my apartment complex in London. We are not actually related, but I adopted him once I was old enough. I do not view him as my son, of course, but rather as a younger brother. A much younger brother. I certainly do not see him as nineteen, because Alfred is...different. When he was about three years old, something very bad happened to him. It resulted in him being slightly...impaired. Alfred still looks like a nineteen year-old. A very handsome one at that. He's quite muscular, with a strong jawline, golden hair, tanned skin, and sparkling blue eyes. Girls are all over him, until they realize Alfred is different. Because of the damage done to his brain at a young age, Alfred's brain can no longer develop properly. Meaning that it cannot grow like a normal adult brain. As a result, Alfred does not act like a nineteen year-old.

Inside, Alfred is still three.

Today, I was watching him as he played on the playground at the park, making little castles out of mulch. He kept waving at me from time to time, and I would look up from my novel and wave back. I would read sometimes when I took Alfred to the park, but I made sure to keep a very close eye on him. Most people passing by would just think Alfred was a father who had a child somewhere with him, and was playing in order to have fun with his kids. But sometimes a mother would come over to the playground with her children, and Alfred would want to play with the other kids. Alfred did not know what it meant to be called a pedophile. He only wanted to play with the people he thought were his peers. The children did not seem to mind, but when Alfred tried to invite them to play on the swings with him, mothers would pull their children away in disgust. One time, a little while back, I had to explain to a police officer about Alfred's situation as he sat in handcuffs, bawling his eyes out. He was taking turns pushing a child down the slide, and the child's father had started to take notice. He walked over to Alfred and called him a creep, and pushed him down. Alfred was naturally confused and started to cry. After all, an adult man had just walked up to him and starting screaming, then shoved him. I ran over and tried to settle the tension and explain, but the man was having none of it. He called the police, and it blew up in my face. I was scared to take Alfred to the park after that, because I feared that it would happen again. I eventually had to tell Alfred to stay away from the other kids, because their parents wouldn't like it very much if he spoke to them. Alfred was extremely sad, and didn't understand why he wasn't allowed to have any friends.

_"Is Alfred a bad guy? Like in the movies?"_

Talking in 3rd person was a habit he picked up. He had already been judged harshly for sixteen years, and I was not going to correct him.

_"No, you're not bad. And neither are they. Some people are just scared of things they don't understand. And until they can understand you, they will be mean. It's not fair, but we'll have to deal with it, okay?"_

Alfred shuffled his feet and tugged at his dinosaur shirt. He finally nodded, but I could tell he didn't understand. He just wanted to be friends. He was just a taller kid in his eyes, and he didn't get why he was a bad guy to everyone.

I heard a thump coming from the swing set, and immediately looked up from my book. Alfred was on the ground, surrounded by chains. Oh, no. He looked around him and started to cry. I rushed over to him and pulled him close. His sobbing was getting louder, and it sounded like it was getting hard for him to breathe.

"Alfred's sorry A-Arthur. Alfred didn't mean to."

"Shh, it's okay." I held him tighter, and I felt his hands tugging on the back of my shirt. He didn't mean to break the swing. Alfred loved the swings, but they weren't really built to support his weight.

They were built for children, not Alfred.

**Is it sad? GOOD. America actually likes dinosaurs in canon. He says it in his Mawaru Chikyuu Rondo. Also, sorry for picking on America and making him a crybaby for the 6th time. This is just a taste of what the fic will contain, hence 'prologue'. As always, if you want to see this continued and made into an actual fic, tell me! I don't continue stories if people don't show an interest in them.**


	2. Chapter 1

I couldn't seem to figure out my paperwork. It's a lot of stress being the author for a series of children's books. I usually write stories about fairies and unicorns. You know, mythical stuff. That part was easy; it was the paperwork that I absolutely loathed. I could never seem to get everything done on time, despite being a very neat and organized person. Publishers and editors constantly badgering me about deadlines and filling out this form and that form...it was enough to drive me crazy. So there I was at my desk, trying to fill out my stupid paperwork for the thousandth time, when I felt a hand tug on my shirt. I turned around and saw Alfred standing over me, shyly shuffling his feet and holding a piece of paper. He offered me the paper, looking down at me so innocently.

It was a drawing. I wasn't sure what it was of. A few scribbles were drawn on the paper in various colors, and I could make out some distinct shapes. I didn't want to crush his creativity by asking what it was, but I had no clue. Alfred was looking at me expectantly, his eyes shining and eager for what I had to say. I opened my mouth to form some sort of words, when Alfred piped up.

"Alfred drew Arthur!"

"Oh, you did. And I like it very much. Thank you, Alfred." I set the drawing down on the desk.

"Did Arthur see the eyebrows? Alfred drew Arthur's eyebrows."

I glanced down at the drawing once more and noticed two huge, dark scribbles. My eyebrows may be bushy, but they certainly were not that large.

"Heh. You sure did."

Alfred stood there as if he didn't know what to say, since I returned to my work. Then he finally announced that he was going to watch Peppa Pig, and ran off into the living room. I sighed. He made my day a little bit brighter whenever it was getting tough. Alfred was the light in my life, and I wanted to make sure his light was always shining as bright as it possibly could.

* * *

><p>Alfred had always had an American accent. He was, after all, an American. His last name was Jones, quite common for a citizen of the United States. My last name was Kirkland, and America loved to call me 'Captain Kirkland', since he loved watching Star Trek. But this resulted in people knowing we were not related by birth, and it raised some interesting questions. Most people were very understanding, but every once in a while, I got the "why did you decide to raise the retarded kid" statement. I didn't like it when people used that word with Alfred. His brain was just less developed, that's all I saw it as. And I didn't see why it was such a bad thing that I adopted him. I had known Alfred since we were kids, and we grew up together. I never knew much about his home life, but I noticed he would never hug his mom or dad when they were around. As it turns out, they didn't want much to do with him. They were embarrassed to be toting around a young man who acted like a kid. I, personally, never thought about it when I was a child. Alfred just had a different personality to me.<p>

So that's why, when I turned eighteen, I moved back to my hometown of London, where I was originally from. Alfred, who was from America and had grown up with me there, really didn't want me to leave him. I was essentially the only friend he had, and the only one who treated him with the kindness a child deserves. His parents handed him over to me without a fight, glad to get away from him. There I was, a teenage boy, with a fourteen year-old son. But Alfred never saw himself as my son, and neither did I. He was my little brother, and I would protect him no matter what.

There were, of course, a few people that didn't judge Alfred or myself. Alfred really loved spending time with his Japanese friend, Kiku Honda. Kiku was a very calm, patient sort of man. He never got frustrated with Alfred, and always spoke to him with kindness. This was a change from the usual treatment Alfred received, so of course he adored the man. Kiku worked with me on my children's books, helping to color in the characters and help me out with whatever I needed. As a result, he frequently visited me in London to work on the books. Once he became friends with Alfred, however, he showed up more often. And then, of course, there was that bastard who lived in the next room over. Francis Bonnefoy, from Paris, France. We didn't get along very well, due to him being French and myself being British. But Francis adored Alfred, so he hung around quite a bit as well. Alfred did that to people. People who were, well, more open-minded. He made them happy with his own constant cheerfulness, and made others want to be around him.

Alfred did have friends when he was a kid. But as they all grew older, none of the other kids would talk to Alfred anymore. He stayed young, and they grew up. He once knew a little boy named Davie who played with him, but after they grew up, Davie wouldn't play with him anymore. Davie had an adult life, and Alfred was still stuck as a kid forever.

* * *

><p>Alfred was extremely strong. He loved sports and running, so he was pretty fit. But to him, it wasn't exercise, it was a game. He had no idea what being "fat" or "muscular" was, he just knew he liked to hula-hoop, run in the park, and chase after squirrels. He still had very poor coordination, but he didn't care. Alfred was just being a happy little boy.<p>

However, being strong came at a price. Alfred didn't know how to control his strength, so he wasn't allowed to hug people or pet animals. He had tried holding a cat once, and killed it. He didn't mean to, and he didn't understand what he did. Alfred was just trying to hold the cat and pet it, but he crushed it by holding its body too tightly. I wasn't paying attention, which was my first mistake. We were going to purchase a cat for Alfred to have a "little buddy", as Alfred called it. I was talking to the owner in the store, and we had our backs turned to him. Hissing and a brief screech was heard, followed by silence. Alfred soon started shouting.

"Wake up, little buddy! Wake up! Arthur! Alfred's little buddy is not okay!"

"What happened? What did he do? Did he kill it? Oh, God! That retard just killed one of my cats!"

"Sir...please, Alfred didn't...oh, God...listen, I-"

"Get out. Get out of my store. Now."

They tried to take him away from me after that. They said he belonged in an institution, that a man who was "retarded" didn't need to be out in the real world with us "normal people". He was a murderer, an animal abuser. But I knew Alfred felt horrible. He kept calling himself a "bad boy" for killing the cat. He wanted to make a gravestone for the cat, even though we never saw it again, and so I did. I paid for a spot in the pet cemetery down the road, and I let Alfred draw on the rock. I helped him with the letters, but he came up with the words himself.

'Here lies Alfred's little buddy. Alfred is sorry.' 

**Davie is not an OC. I don't ever do OC's. Look him up! He's a Hetalia character. He was a young boy that America knew as a kid, but since America is a country, Davie got old and died, and America was still a little kid and didn't understand. If you haven't seen it yet, just Google "Hetalia Davie" and click on the first link. It's pretty fucking sad. And once you see the explanation down at the bottom, you'll see why I included it briefly in here. ;) And as always with my fics, the chapters get longer as the story goes on. That's just how I am. Sorry if I broke your heart in this chapter. It gets sadder, though, don't worry. **


	3. Chapter 2

**Don't worry, my precious little reviewers. I will update and continue this fic. Also, happy Halloween!**

Today, I took Alfred to the doctor for his checkup. He had never really cared for any of the doctors we had gone to before, because they all treated him apathetically, or acted like he was freaking them out. I had yet to find a doctor who was very kind and compassionate, but Francis suggested a new one to me. He said she was understanding of people with mental illnesses, and very good with children. It was worth a shot, I suppose.

Alfred was a good boy in the waiting room. He didn't get too loud or yell, and instead just played with a shapes and colors book they had left out on the table for the kids. He decided to quiz me from time to time, and I found that quite amusing.

"Arthur! Does Arthur know what color this is?"

"Yes. That's green."

Alfred's eyes were sparkling as he patted my leg. "Very good! This one?"

"Red."

"Wow. Arthur is smart. What is this one?" He pointed to a pink triangle.

"Hm. That's a tough one, for sure." I decided to play dumb. "Is it...a blue circle?"

Alfred flew into a fit of giggles. "No!"

"Oh, drat. Well, you're going to have to tell me."

"Pink triangle." Alfred looked pleased with himself.

A nurse suddenly came out from behind the large doors in the corner of the room and asked for Mr. Kirkland. I stood up and motioned for Alfred to come with me, and he trailed behind me, grabbing onto my t-shirt. Alfred is actually taller than me, but when he gets shy like that, he likes to hide.

We traveled down the hallway of the doctor's office until we reached a door that read "Elizabeta Héderváry". I prayed that she would be as empathetic as Francis had talked her up to be. As soon as we opened the door and walked inside, I was met with a somewhat short woman with long, brown, wavy hair. Her eyes, I noticed, were the same bright green as my own. If anything made me trust her immediately, it was her smile. It was gentle, and showed a motherly kindness.

"Hello, Mr. Kirkland. I am Dr. Héderváry. And this," she looked behind me, "must be Alfred." Alfred continued to stay in his not-so-concealed hiding spot. I could feel him nodding behind me, as if to confirm her statement. Dr. Héderváry smiled. "Alfred, you can call me Elizabeta, if you want. Would you like that?" She extended a hand out to him, and I looked to my right to see Alfred's hand slowly inching out from behind me. He took her hand in his own and started to shake it, as he had been taught to do. I laughed, and Dr. Héderváry looked him in the eyes as she returned the gesture. "You know, not many boys are smart enough to know how to shake hands. You must be very smart."

Alfred was beaming as we walked over to the bed in the corner. He frowned at the layer of rough paper that covered it, as he had never liked them, but sat down nonetheless. Dr. Héderváry took her stethoscope and leaned over to Alfred. Alfred pointed at the tool.

"Alfred knows what that is. That is a stethoscope."

One of our previous doctors had informed him of this, and Alfred held onto the information ever since. Dr. Héderváry looked at him in surprise.

"That's right! Wow, Alfred, you're such a smart boy. Do you know what this is for?"

Alfred grinned. "Doctors use it to hear Alfred's heart! It goes 'ba-dump, ba-dump'."

Dr. Héderváry laughed. "You should be the doctor, not me! Okay, Alfred, let's do what you said and hear your heart, okay? I'm also going to put it on your wrist and back. Is that alright?"

Alfred was so excited as he nodded. As she began to examine him, I felt my heart swell up. No doctor had ever been this kind to Alfred, and none of them had ever let him feel intelligent before. He never really liked them because they treated him like he was nothing more than a stupid adult, not a child trapped in the body of one. After she finished and scribbled some things down on her notebook, she took Alfred out of the room for his x-rays. I asked him if he wanted me to come and he said no, that he would be fine with Elizabeta. He finally felt comfortable around a doctor. I couldn't believe our luck.

I was reading one of the gardening magazines in the room for the parents when Alfred and Dr. Héderváry returned. Alfred was smiling, and Dr. Héderváry was walking over to one of the cabinets. She pulled out a piece of paper and a pen, and handed them to Alfred.

"They sound really interesting. I'll bet you're a really good artist, Alfred. Do you want to draw them for me?"

Alfred was ecstatic as he took the paper and started to draw various scribbles. Dr. Héderváry pointed to one of them. "Who is that?" she asked.

"That one is Kiku. He is Alfred's friend."

Alfred drew another scribble. Dr. Héderváry again pointed. "And who is that?"

"That one is Francis!"

Dr. Héderváry grinned. "I know him. Wow, Alfred, he looks so handsome."

"No, Arthur says Francis is ugly."

I felt my face turn hot as Dr. Héderváry stared at me and started to laugh. I really needed to watch what I said in front of him. Alfred eventually looked satisfied with his work, and presented the paper to Dr. Héderváry. She took it and put it on the wall with a thumbtack, and told him it was the best artwork she had ever seen. She then opened up a drawer and showed it to Alfred. Inside were various tattoos, sticker, balls, and other small toys. She told Alfred that since he was such a good boy, he could have something. Alfred pondered the items in deep thought, until his eyes caught something.

"Batman! Arthur, there is Batman!"

Dr. Héderváry pulled a Batman tattoo out of the drawer. "Alfred, do you like Batman?"

Alfred was jumping up and down now. "Yes, yes! Alfred loves Batman! Alfred is going to be a hero one day, just like him!"

She handed him the sticker and he looked at it in amazement.

"Well, you already look cool enough to be a hero. Your jacket is pretty awesome." She pointed to the bomber jacket Alfred was wearing that I had bought him for Christmas one year.

"Yes, Arthur bought it for Alfred."

Dr. Héderváry looked at me. "Arthur loves you, doesn't he? He takes very good care of you."

Alfred hugged me and nodded.

Dr. Héderváry shook my hand and asked Alfred for one of his great handshakes again. Alfred was always so careful to be gentle with people and hold things as delicately as possible, so he gave her a very soft and mild handshake, cradling just her fingers. He didn't want to hurt anyone again, and it made me slightly sad. Dr. Héderváry walked us out all the way to the front door, and told Alfred she couldn't wait to see him again.

I was so happy to have found another person who treated Alfred the way he deserved. Maybe this was the beginning of a whole new life for him.

* * *

><p>I pressed a warm washcloth over Alfred's arm. Alfred sat and waited, because he was an extremely patient child for his age. It only took about thirty seconds for these things to stick, if I recalled correctly, so it shouldn't take that long. I was scared to peel off the paper and have it fall apart, though, so I took the washcloth off and started to pull the little paper square off of Alfred's arm very carefully. Alfred watched in anticipation.<p>

And there we had it. Batman. Alfred whooped with joy as he ran over to the mirror and posed with his new tattoo. He turned around in little circles, observing his arm from all angles, until he decided he was satisfied. He hugged me and thanked me for taking the time to put the tattoo on him, and ran over to the living room to set up his toys. Kiku was coming over soon, and Alfred wanted his toys to be ready.

I made myself a cup of tea and watered my plants, musing around the house. Alfred waved as I walked into the kitchen to use the phone, and I waved back at him. He had a habit of waving to me no matter where we were. I decided to call Kiku and confirm his time for arrival. We were actually on schedule this week for the next edition of the book, and Kiku decided to visit just to see Alfred. I dialed the number and waited, keeping a close eye on Alfred, who was playing with his toy soldiers I made him. I broke my hand making them by accident, but the look of happiness on Alfred's face was enough to heal anything. I heard the phone stop ringing as Kiku picked up.

"Hello, Arthur."

"Kiku, hi. I was just wondering when you were going to get here. We agreed on 3:30, correct?"

"Yes, I am at the airport now. My taxi is here, so I will see you in about fifteen minutes. How is Alfred?"

I loved when people asked about Alfred rather than myself. Most people were too uncomfortable with the subject of him, so they tried to turn conversations to my life instead.

"He's doing well. We went to the doctor's office today. He got one of those temporary tattoos. I'm sure he'll show it to you."

Kiku chuckled. "Well, I look forward to seeing it. And both of you. I'm about to get in the taxi now, so I will talk to you later."

"Okay, Kiku. Goodbye."

Click.

I sipped my tea as I looked out the window. Alfred and I were on the 5th floor. I got quite a beautiful view of London. Alfred liked being up high, because he said he was like a flying superhero. Ah, Alfred. It seemed like no matter how many times he was knocked down, he just lifted himself back up.

"Arthur! Let's play toy soldiers! Alfred is the good guys and Arthur is the bad guys!"

I smiled. He really was the little flame in my life that made it so much brighter.

"Okay."

**D'aww. After all that sad shit, you guys deserved something cute. America does indeed like Batman in canon. Boo, Marvel is better. I have never been to England, so I based the doctor's office after an American one. And Elizabeta Héderváry is Hungary. I quite like the Hetalia ladies, myself. Hungary is also only 5'3", hence the short comment. Well, short to me, anyway. Review if you want to. I don't tell you what to do.**


	4. Chapter 3

**I didn't do anything for Halloween. Not my intentions. I hope everyone else had a good one, though! And don't worry, 'The Love He Deserves' will be updated tomorrow.**

Kiku arrived right on time. Alfred ran over to greet him, showing him his new tattoo. I smiled to myself as Alfred pulled Kiku into the living room so they could play with his toys. I had bought a Batman figurine for him last week, and her had incorporated it into his toy soldiers. Batman was the leader and the hero. I really wanted to take him to see Captain America. Captain America was a hero who was held back in time, due to being frozen. He looked an awful lot like Alfred, and he was an American. I think Alfred would really relate to him.

After playing with the toys for a while, Kiku offered to go buy ice cream. I told him he didn't have to, but he insisted. So after putting on Alfred's coat and making sure he had a handful of little plastic dinosaurs with him, we all piled into my car to go get ice cream. Alfred was rambling on and on about what flavor he wanted the whole time.

As soon as we got out of the car and made our way to the ice cream stand in the park, I could hear music. I turned to see a man, maybe in his 40's, playing the violin. He was actually quite gifted, and I always had a rule about these things. If they make you stop and pay attention, you should give them some money. The violinist stopped playing for a brief moment to take a quick break, so I strolled over and pulled out a few euros, dropping them into his hat. The man nodded and smiled. Alfred stood beside me, fumbling around with his dinosaurs, until he let out a little 'a-ha!' He walked over to the man, who was sitting on a stool, and handed him his T-Rex.

"T-Rex is Alfred's favorite! Alfred hopes it makes Mister Music Guy very happy."

The violinist immediately knew there was something not right about Alfred's demeanor, and offered a warm smile. "Thank you very much, young man. Don't worry, I'll keep it forever." He put the dinosaur in his pocket, which made Alfred unbelievably happy. All three of us walked away as the man started playing again, and I could swear he was playing with more passion than before.

* * *

><p>"Kiku, Kiku! This one has Batman on it!"<p>

I looked in the direction of Alfred's voice. We decided to go into a little store on the corner after finishing our ice cream, just to see what it was. As it turns out, it was a vintage clothing store. Kiku and I were always into those sort of things. One of the reasons we worked so well together is because we thought the same way on everything.

"It does, Alfred. You like Batman, don't you?"

"Yes, yes! Alfred loves Batman!"

Kiku walked over to me and whispered, "Is it alright if I buy it for him?"

"Ah, no! Let me pay for it. You already bought us ice cream, I'd hate for you to-"

"It's no problem, Arthur, really. I like buying things for Alfred. Look how happy he is."

Alfred was looking at the shirt like it was the second coming of Jesus.

"Ah, if you insist. Thank you very much."

Kiku grinned and walked over to Alfred, talking to him about buying the shirt. Alfred's eyes went wide, and he started jumping up and down. The boy could be excited about anything, really. And his happiness made me so wonderfully happy as well.

Kiku let Alfred put the purchase on the counter, telling him that since he was a big boy, he could do it all by himself. I thought it was funny how much taller Alfred was than Kiku. Their height difference was about eleven centimeters, so it was odd seeing them side by side.

"Yes, thank you, Store Lady!" I heard Alfred shout. The cashier laughed and thanked them, and told Alfred to enjoy his shirt. Alfred told her thank you, that he would, and also that she looked lovely today.

The woman blushed and giggled, but I knew Alfred didn't make everyone happy. And little did I know, we were about to see that.

* * *

><p>Alfred had decided to put his Batman shirt on, and displayed it proudly as we walked down the street. He would point it out to people, and the reactions on this varied. Most people would just nod, or they would give him an odd look and continue walking. None of it bothered Alfred, though. He had his new shirt.<p>

Until we bumped into a random stranger who was, I suppose, having a rotten day. We were walking back to the car when Alfred was looking down at his shoes, as he often does, and did not see the man who was walking straight into him. The man wasn't really looking either, more so at his phone. I tried to say something, but it was too late. Alfred accidentally slammed right into the man, spilling the man's coffee all down the front of his shirt.

"What the fuck? Aw, bloody hell. Watch where you're fucking going."

Alfred backed up, and Kiku started to apologize for him. But this man was having none of this. He was after Alfred now. Alfred looked scared, and he started stuttering. He hated violent language, as he had heard enough of it from his parents growing up.

"Alfred...he didn't...he…"

The man suddenly lunged forward and grabbed Alfred by the collar, shaking him. "You do realize how much this shirt cost me? You're buying me a new one. Do you hear me? Say something!"

I tried to pull him off of Alfred, but the stranger just ignored me. He was a younger man, perhaps in his 30's, and seemed quite strong. Kiku was just standing there, stammering, unable to do much because he was of the frail sort. Alfred was crying now, gripping the man's hands with his own, blubbering on and on about how he was sorry.

The man roughly pushed Alfred onto the pavement, Alfred stopping himself on his elbows. The man started to yell about his shirt again, and Alfred put his hands over his face, sobbing. This man did not realize that he was essentially shoving a preschooler, one who had been abused by nearly everyone his whole life. And that he didn't understand what he did wrong, he was just scared because someone was beating him and yelling at him again. This man was not going to leave Alfred alone no matter how much we tried to explain everything. Rage does things to people, and now this man was looking for a fight.

So I swung my fist as hard as I could, and decked the man in the face.

He stumbled backwards, blood pouring down from his nose. I stood there, frozen, unable to believe what I had just done. I watched as the man sat, groaning about how we'd pay for what we did. I felt Kiku pulling on my sleeve, and turned around to see him holding onto Alfred, who was latched around Kiku's waist and sobbing. I knew we all had to leave as soon as possible, so we ran to the car as fast as we could. I got in and turned the key in the ignition when I heard someone slamming on the window. Kiku started to yell at me before I could turn around to see what was presumably the man trying to open the door.

"Drive, Arthur! Just drive!"

And so I did.

* * *

><p>I didn't think my knuckles would be hurting so bad. But that really wasn't my concern. I had done it to protect Alfred. Who knows what the man would have done if we have not stopped him?<p>

My top concern at the moment was Alfred. He and Kiku were sitting on the couch. Kiku had a wet washcloth over his arms, wiping away the dirt and blood on his elbows and hands. Alfred couldn't stop shaking and sobbing, no matter what we did. Back when we were driving away, Kiku had eventually crawled into the backseat of the car to comfort him, even though I told him it was dangerous. But nothing seemed to be calming him down. All he had been doing was apologizing and hiccuping for the past thirty minutes.

"Shh, Alfred, it's okay. You didn't do anything bad. You're not a bad boy."

Kiku started to reiterate what he had been saying. Alfred continued to sob.

"A-Alfred d-didn't mean to. H-He...he…"

The poor child was choking back sobs with every word. The funny thing about Alfred was that he was unable to see the bad things in other people. Doctors had told me over the years that since he was a child, he believed nearly everything he heard. So if someone treated him like he was a bad guy multiple times, he would believe he was one. It didn't matter what anyone else told him.

So I decided to lie. It was the only way to make him feel better. I bent down next to Alfred and placed my hand on his head.

"Alfred, what do you want to be?"

"A...a hero."

"Right. And you see, that man was actually a secret agent. He was pretending to be a mean man so he could see if you would be a hero or not."

Alfred stopped sobbing to ponder this for a second.

"B-but...Alfred...did he win?"

I scoffed. "Win? Alfred, your name is all over the news right now. You're such a hero! And do you know why you're a hero?"

Alfred sat up, his eyes aglow with excitement.

"Because you didn't hurt that man. He was mean to you, and you said you were sorry. You didn't fight him."

Kiku decided to pipe up. "Yes, Alfred. You passed his test. You were a good boy. You were a hero."

Alfred looked down at his shirt. "Batman beats people up, though. Batman is a hero."

Kiku and I looked at each other. Great, how were we going to explain this one? True, comic book superheroes were always beating up villains, not saying they were sorry. Finally, I had something.

"Well, Alfred, there's not a lot of nice people in this world. And so the hero this world needs is someone who is kind. You are kind, right?"

Alfred sort of nodded, keeping his eyes on his Batman shirt.

"Well, you're a good hero, then! We need someone who is as nice as you. So whenever you don't beat up a bad guy, you're being the biggest hero you can possibly be."

Alfred looked up, his face sparkling with wonder and amazement. He looked at Kiku as if to confirm this, and Kiku chuckled and nodded. Then Alfred looked at me. I smiled and roughed up his hair, content knowing that Alfred was back in an amicable mood.

Alfred started grinning and pulled us both in for a hug. And in was there, in that moment, that I realized everything I had said was actually true. We needed more people like Alfred in the world. People who treated others with kindness everywhere they went, and in turn created more kindness. Alfred truly was a hero. My hero, at least.

I only wish we hadn't explained it to him that way. Because it had the most unfortunate consequences I could have ever imagined.

**Sorry I haven't updated in a while! I haven't been busy. That would be lying. I just forgot. And by the way, the language usage in here is American English. Why? Because I am American, you silly goose. So things will be spelled the American way. Only because I'm not 100% sure of the English spellings on things and what they would say/not say, and it makes me nervous that I'm going to mess up. Hence this train wreck. Anyway, review if you want to.**


	5. Chapter 4

Kiku decided to stay for a few days. He said he felt awfully rude for staying in my home, but I shrugged it off. Kiku was always very polite, never wanting to burden anyone. We worked so well together, and I was extremely grateful to have a partner like him. Of course, partner in terms of working. When it came to my dating life, I was as single as they came. I had to stay home to take care of Alfred, and if I did go out to a club, I'd have to bring Alfred with me. I went one time, and women started to hit on Alfred right away. They must have thought a man sipping a juice box and sitting at a table by himself in the back was cool. Though I can't say I really blamed them. You would never know Alfred was disabled just by looking at him. He looked like a handsome, muscular young man, with strong features and a killer smile. No wonder people liked him. Until he started prattling on about superheroes and kids shows, making airplane noises and sipping his juice. Most women just thought he was immature. And I suppose he was. But he couldn't help it.

I, however, am not a looker. That's why I never really got any dates. Alfred probably got more numbers and flirted with more often than I. My eyebrows are huge, so huge that they're the first things people notice about me. And unlike Alfred's neat, honey-colored hair, mine is more of a yellowish blonde, and it sticks out every which way. The only thing I've got going for me is my height, since I am fairly tall. Alfred was still taller, though. Which is quite odd when he would hold my hand. We looked more like lovers than a father/son.

Alfred did like to hold my hand, though. Ever since he was a little boy and I had first met him. He liked being around other people. But whenever I would visit his house, all I heard were glasses being shattered and curse words being thrown across the room. I would run up to Alfred's room and see him hiding under the bed, his eyes closed and his hands over his ears. I would hold him and comfort him, trying not to listen to Mr. and Mrs. Jones scream about their son. Oh, God. I heard the most awful things. All they did was talk about how they didn't ask for a retard, and how their lives were ruined now. Mr. Jones blamed Mrs. Jones for what happened to Alfred, and she said she didn't want a stupid kid either, so don't get mad at _her._ I knew it was no one's fault, especially not Alfred's. But everyone seemed to blame him. He couldn't help what happened to him.

You would never know what happened to Alfred unless you lifted up the back of his hair. From there you could see his skull was ever so slightly caved in, with a long line of stitches running down his head. I was careful to only touch the front of Alfred's head. I never wanted to remind him of what happened.

* * *

><p>I didn't like Francis very much. However, Alfred adored him, so he came over to visit.<p>

"Bonjour, Alfred! How are you doing today? And oh, hello. Arthur."

"Hello, French frog."

Alfred was watching Peppa Pig on the couch with Kiku and eating baby carrots. Francis strolled over and wrapped Alfred in a hug from behind, which made Alfred giggle.

"Francis!" he laughed.

"Alfred, have you been a good boy lately?"

Alfred nodded. "Alfred has! He was a hero! Alfred was famous. Like Spiderman." He said it so matter-of-factly, and popped another carrot into his mouth.

Francis's gaze softened. "Yes, you like superheroes. Don't you?"

Alfred nodded happily and turned his attention to the television set once more. Francis took this as his cue to leave him be, and instead pulled me into the kitchen. Once we were out of earshot, Francis started to whisper.

"So what actually happened? Kiku didn't tell me much over the phone, only that some stranger attacked Alfred and you punched him." Francis sounded somewhat impressed, like he was proud of me.

I chuckled. 'Well, that's really all that happened. I can't say much else. Well, the man did attack Alfred because the boy bumped into him and spilled coffee down his shirt. The bastard was real angry. Shoving him, grabbing him. The usual stuff."

Francis saddened. "Well, as long as he is okay now…"

"Oh yes, he's fine." I shrugged this off and decided to brew some tea. Alfred was content now, so that's all that mattered.

After a long pause, Francis decided to speak up. "You know, he really is a miracle. A hero, if you will. I don't know many people that could take a stabbing to the back of the head and live. And then live a happy life, at that."

I grimaced as I started to have flashbacks from that day. My mother dropping her phone and grabbing me, rushing us out the door. Going to the hospital and seeing Mrs. Jones, screaming and sobbing about how she could have stopped the mugger if she had tried harder. Seeing Alfred a few days later, looking so tiny as he was hooked up to so many tubes…

I shook the memories away. Those were things I'd like to forget. "Ah, yeah. He is." I took down my box of tea leaves from the shelf.

"And Arthur, as much as I'd hate to admit it, you're not so bad yourself for taking care of him."

I smirked. "Thanks, Frog."

* * *

><p>We were about to eat dinner when I got a call from a very pissed off boss, asking why he didn't have his draft yesterday. As it turns out, Kiku and I had misread of of the dates on our paperwork. The final draft had to be finished a week earlier than I thought. It was a good thing Kiku was with me to help, or else I didn't know what we would have done. I asked Francis to stay and take care of Alfred while I was gone. We had to run to our office to get some supplies, and I told Alfred I would be back soon.<p>

"Why is Arthur leaving?" He sounded upset.

"I just have something I have to go do. Now, be a good boy and wait for me, okay?"

Alfred started to pout. "Alfred wants to help."

"Alfred, you can't." I tried to inch my way out the door, because Kiku already had the car running.

"No, please! Alfred can be a hero, he can help you!"

"Not this time, Alfred. I love you, okay? Bye."

"But-"

I slammed the door. I felt horrible as I walked down the outside stairs of the apartment, down to the car where Kiku was waiting. I wished I had been nicer to Alfred that day.

Because little did I know, that was the last time I would ever speak to him.


	6. Chapter 5

**Wowza, two cliffhangers in a row. Y'all probably wanna kill me. But this is, sadly, the last chapter. I'll be doing a comedy next, so look out for that nonsense.**

I could feel my headache growing as my boss screamed at me. Kiku's soft voice was beside me, apologizing for our mistake. To be honest, though, I wasn't thinking about the book at all. I was worried about Alfred, and how rude I was to him. All I wanted to do was call Francis so he could put me on the phone with him.

"So get to work! I can't believe you two screwed up that badly."

"Yes, sir. We are very sorry. Aren't we, Arthur? C-come on, let's go get the drafts so we can finish them."

We walked down the narrow corridor. It was quite gray and dreary, unfit for a children's publishing company. Oh, how I wished I could do all my work from home. But sometimes, Kiku and I had to go to the official office to pick up certain things. And I absolutely loathed it. We turned the corner and entered our "office", per se, that had all the paperwork needed to complete the book. I moaned as we shuffled through papers, bored out of our minds looking for the drafts. I had to find my scripts, and Kiku had to find his drawings. That's how we worked, most of the time. I planned out the drawings, but he helped me a lot on coloring them and polishing things.

Once we found our drafts, we realized it wasn't as bad as we thought. We could finish them here at the office. Kiku pulled a chair up to the desk and started to sketch the characters onto different paper. I pulled open the blinds to let some light into the room, but saw that it was useless. It was already pitch black outside. Time flies when you're hurrying to an office to write children's books, I always say.

I sat down and started to write. The story was about a fairy who taught kids to share. I know. I wanted to die writing it. Fairies are complex and fascinating creatures. They shouldn't be used for "sharing is caring" bullshit. Nevertheless, it's how I made money. Barely enough money to keep Alfred and I off the streets.

My phone started to vibrate in my pocket, and I picked it up. Francis.

"Hello?"

"Arthur!" Francis was practically screaming. "Arthur, help me! Alfred, he...he…"

I was immediately in a state of panic. "What about Alfred?" This caught Kiku's attention, and he rushed over and put his ear near the phone.

"He left! I-I...he left! I had ran his bath like you told me to, and then I came back and the door was open! I'm out on the street right now looking for him...oh God...Alfred! Alfred, where are you? All I heard was him shouting 'go help Arthur', but I didn't come out right away...I didn't know...I'm so...oh...Alfred! Alfredddd!"

"He's gone? Oh God, hold on. I'll be right there."

Without thinking, I handed the phone to Kiku and practically pulled the door off its hinges getting it open. Alfred was out on the streets on his own, and we had no idea where he was. Job be damned, I had to go find my little brother.

"Hey! Kirkland, Honda! Where do you think you're going? Do you have those drafts finished?" my boss yelled as we ran past. I ignored him. We both did. Kiku was talking to Francis on the phone, but I wasn't listening to what he was saying. Alfred. That's all I could think about. Alfred.

* * *

><p>"Alfred! Please, where are you? Alfred!"<p>

The three of us had decided to split up to look for him. I was on the verge of a panic attack, wandering the streets of London and praying, oh I was praying, that he was okay. I would stop anyone that I saw, asking them if they saw Alfred. Nobody had.

I looked at my watch. It was almost midnight. I had been searching for four hours now. I was starting to see the same places again and again. My mind went to the worst possible ideas. I was scared that Alfred had been kidnapped. It seemed like everywhere we went, we couldn't find him. Suddenly, I got a phone call. It was Kiku. I scrambled to hit the answer button, hoping that they had found him.

"K-Kiku? Did you find him?"

All I could hear someone making horrible, wretched sobbing noises. They sounded like they were choking. Then a "Sir? Mr. Honda, let me see your phone."

I could still hear someone screaming and sobbing in the background, but another voice was suddenly on the line. I could hear my heart in my chest. What was going on?

"Sir? Are you Arthur...uh, Kirkland?"

"Yes! Yes, that's me. Did you find him? Did you find my Alfred?"

I heard a sharp inhale. "Yes, we did."

* * *

><p>Alfred really was all over the news. They had found the body about two blocks from our house, in the back of an alley. Apparently, someone had stopped Alfred and asked him for his wallet. They said he had a knife on him. Knowing how terrified Alfred was of that exact situation he had been placed in sixteen years ago, he was probably too scared to say anything. There was one witness, who said he was too scared to intervene. The mugger had asked Alfred for his wallet again, and the witness said Alfred offered him some sort of doll, one with black clothes on. The mugger thought he was joking, because he stabbed him multiple times, and Alfred didn't even fight back. The witness ran away after that, trying to find the police station, but apparently there was a line of blood showing the mugger had carried Alfred to the back of the alley, hidden from sight.<p>

The one most torn up over it was Kiku. He locked himself in my guest bedroom and only came out for the funeral. He never got much sleep, and cried almost every day. He wouldn't say a word to anyone, instead choosing to hold Alfred's toy soldiers and watch Peppa Pig back in his room all week. We had both been fired from our jobs for leaving that night.

Francis decided to handle the funeral. He knew Alfred loved balloons, Batman, and dinosaurs. There were dinosaur-shaped balloons all over the room. Alfred's casket was black, but it had the Batman symbol on it. Not many people showed up, because nobody had ever really cared for him. Not even his own parents. Dr. Héderváry showed up, so did the man who played the violin on the street. He introduced himself to me as Julius Vargas, and brought his two grandsons with him, Feliciano and Lovino. He had heard about Alfred, and said he wanted to pay his respects. I watched him pull the toy T-Rex out of his pocket and hold it between his hands as he knelt over Alfred's casket and prayed.

And me? I really didn't know what to do with myself. Alfred was my life. He always had been. He was the only thing that brought me happiness. And never seeing his smile again was too much for me to bear.

* * *

><p>It's been a year now. I got a job with a different children's book company. One that actually lets me write my own books from home. Kiku is doing a lot better, though I don't think he's completely gotten over it. None of us have. Alfred was the joy in our lives, and it seems like only yesterday, I was grinning as he looked at his Batman tattoo. We all had our own ways of trying to cope with Alfred's death. I sipped my tea and stared at the drawing of me Alfred had drawn. It was on my fridge, and I had never taken it down.<p>

Suddenly, I heard a little voice.

"Daddy, Daddy! It's almost bed time, can you read me your new storybook? Pleeeeease?"

My five year-old son was tugging on the hem of my pants, dancing on the balls of his feet. I sighed and picked him up off the ground.

"I suppose we could. You get to see it before anyone else."

"I do? Woah."

The first copy of the book was sitting on the table. I wasn't sure of how many times I had read it to myself. I took it and went back into the bedroom. My son adjusted himself into the bed, squirming beneath the covers until he was comfortable. Francis had decided to open up an orphanage about six months ago, because he never wanted kids to feel like they were not loved. He had a particular child that he was quite fond of, and asked me if I would consider adopting. I immediately said yes.

"Okay, here we go. Are you ready?"

He nodded.

"Okay. Let's begin."

"Once upon a time, there was a little boy. This little boy was very special, because he was the kindest boy in all the land. He was a hero, because he would do good things for people.

The little boy found a lady who was sick. She couldn't seem to feel better no matter what! The little boy asked her what was wrong. The lady replied, 'I am a doctor, but I cannot seem to find out what is wrong with me!'

The little boy thought and thought. He finally decided to give the lady a great big hug! With the little boy hugging her, she felt better! 'Thank you, little boy!'

One day, he decided to go into town. A man was playing his violin, but he seemed sad. 'Why are you sad?' asked the little boy. The violinist frowned. 'I want to play music, but I feel like I am missing something!'

The little boy thought and thought. Then, he finally gave the the violinist a great big hug! With the little boy hugging him, he played his music better than ever before! 'Thank you, little boy!'"

Looking down at the next page, I could feel myself starting to choke up. "Then," I began, "there was a man who was so sad. He didn't know what he was missing in his life. The little boy walked up to him. 'Why are you sad, mister?' he asked. The man replied, 'I don't know what I am missing.'

The little boy thought and thought. Finally, he gave the man a great big hug. 'Don't worry, mister. I am always here to be your hero!' And the man had never been happier in his whole life.

The little boy brought happiness to everyone. And no matter what, he would always be a hero."

"That was a good story. I liked that story...huh? Daddy, are you crying?"

I could feel tears running down my face. I wiped them away on my shirt sleeve. "No, I'm fine." I kissed him on the forehead, and felt his little arms wrap around my neck.

"It's okay, Daddy. I'll be your hero."

I promised myself that I would have a good cry, but after I left. I didn't think I would ever be happy again, or have Alfred's love in my life once more. I went to the door and turned off the lights.

"Goodnight, Daddy!"

"Goodnight, Matthew."


End file.
